


The House on the Hill

by porkcutletbowltrash



Series: YOI Halloween Week 2017 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accusations of Witchcraft, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Haunted House, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anxious!Yuuri, Crossover, Crying, Ghost Stories, Hardy Boys 1978 crossover, Haunted Houses, Horror, Horror-ish? At least it could be to some, Lots of backstory, M/M, Paranoid!yuuri, Thriller, Tragedy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, day 1 (part A), emotional breakdown, haunted house au, it could be considered crack!, mentions of Viktor's family, mentions of homophobia (however they are not prominent), mentions of previous deaths/murders, non graphis death, poor innocent Viktor, yoihalloweenweek2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 03:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12497304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porkcutletbowltrash/pseuds/porkcutletbowltrash
Summary: “There was no way you could’ve lit this fire...not with how long we’ve been here and how high it is...”The boy looked up at him under his lashes and shook his head, “I didn’t.”“Then who did?”“The house did, of course.”“The house?” Viktor felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. This guy had to be a little delirious. Maybe bringing him to the fire would be the wrong choice, especially if he had a fever.“Yes, The house.” As if he could hear Viktor’s thoughts, the boy rose to his feet and shuffled closer to the fire, looking around the room, “The house is alive.”Based off the 1978 Hardy Boys episode “The House on Possessed Hill"





	The House on the Hill

He’d been driving for almost two hours now and the sky was getting progressively darker as time went on. It was almost midnight and he knew he should’ve taken his sisters advice and just waited until the morning to drive the few hours to see her, but logical thinking had been outweighed by the fact that he hadn’t seen his sister, Evelyn, in almost six years. It had really been six years since he had run away from home and came to St. Petersburg to train under Yakov Feltsman, one of the best ice skating coaches in Russia (and possibly the world). Why hadn’t he come to visit his older sister sooner? He and Evie had always been joined at the hips as children, but once he had come out to his parents and had run away after their very outspoken disapproval they drifted. He hadn’t even so much as came to visit his sister since.

He was feeling extremely guilty about it and he was craving his sister's company that he had been starved of for so long. Even if the sky was becoming darker every fifteen minutes and the cars were slowly draining out of the streets as he kept to the main road, he didn’t care. He was tired, but to him, the time with Evie was far more important than rest.

The pop music being played on the radio melted into the background as Viktor wove the car along the turns in the road, not having the energy to change the station to something more his taste. He was alone on the dark street by now, the rain pouring down making the last of his fellow travelers hole up in their homes or in nearby Bed & Breakfasts'. It was almost peaceful being on a road like this, heading to the outskirts of St. Petersburg, into the Russian countryside. He could actually let himself unwind around the winding roads of the small towns and highway.

That was until it happened.

He was passing through a small town he didn’t know even existed (let alone knew the name of); an upbeat song playing in the background and Viktor tapping his fingers on the wheel in tandem with it. Everything was going smoothly – easily for once – and Viktor couldn’t have been happier. He was only an hour away from the small cottage that his sister and her late husband had bought together before he had passed away.

That’s when the strangeness of the night began…

“STOP!!!” A boy dashed from the side of the road and into the street, waving him down, breaking Viktor out of his peaceful high. Viktor slammed on the breaks, the car came to a jerking halt as Viktor’s wheels started to slide into a swerve; his head jerked forward and almost hit the steering wheel. As he was righting himself, the passenger door flew open and the boy climbed in from outside.

“Hey!”

“Please. Please hurry. They’re after me.” The boy explained quickly as he slammed the door shut and pulled on his seat belt.

“What? Huh?” Viktor asked, his foot still firmly on the break in too much shock to fully process what was happening before him.

“They’re after me. Please help me. I dunno what they’ll do to me this time.” The boy cried as he turned to look at Viktor. Viktor’s eyes widened as he took in the appearance of the boy. His dark hair was longer and plastered to his face, framing softer dirt-smudged cheeks and a pair of mesmerizing golden brown eyes. His clothes, a pair of dark jeans and a faded gray t-shirt, were sopping wet – obviously, he had been caught in the rain that had stopped not that long ago. His eyes were filled with unspoken fear and he kept throwing worried glances over his shoulder. He had this sweet subtle accent that graced his Russian like Viktor had never heard before, making Viktor realize he had to have come from foreign roots.

“What’re you—“ Viktor’s voice caught in his throat as he spotted what Yuuri was talking about. Men, about 20 of them, were running full speed towards the convertible, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“DO YOU SEE HIM?!”

“HE WENT THAT WAY!” One of the men pointed towards the convertible and Viktor’s eyes met the boys once more. They had gone even wider in fear and started filling with tears as they looking into Viktor’s blue ones.

He stepped firmly on the gas he spun the wheel up to drive back onto the road.

“Who’re they?” When the boy stayed silent, Viktor repeated himself, “Who are they?!”

“The townspeople.” The boy whispered as he pulled his knees to his chest and looked out the window into the flurry of trees and fields passing them by.

“What do they want? What happened?” Viktor was running on high alert at this point, all semblance of sleepiness was gone as they continued to lurch up the road; he was running fully on adrenaline by now., “Are you in trouble?”

“I’m not a criminal if that is what you are wondering,” The boy was still gazing out the window, his eyes flitting across the road as if he was looking for something.

“You’re not? Then why are those people chasing you?”

The boy stayed quiet and just when Viktor was about to step on the brakes and reiterate himself, the boy spoke softly as if saying it was traumatizing for him, “T-They think I’m a Warlock. They feel threatened”

“You've gotta be kidding me. A Warlock?”

“Y-yes. A male witch.” The boy pulled his knees tighter to him as he gazed out the windows, his voice still very soft.

“Why? Why do they think you’re a—“

“There was a little boy who I use to play with every day on the way to school. We became friends and would often spend time together when we were little. When we were walking home from school one day there was an accident. I saw it all happen.” The boy finally turned to him for a moment before turning back in his seat to look out the window.

“You just saw a freak accident? Why would they think you’re a warlock for that?”

“I had a dream that something terrible would happen; an accident. I had the same dream multiple nights in a row so I told his parents that I was worried about an accident; that it would happen. I had predicted it. I saw the accident happen before it did. The accident came and just like I saw, the boy was severely injured. They thought I had cursed their son. To this day, I can’t see him anymore. They’ve convinced the townspeople that I’m not to be trusted, especially with all the other deaths and accidents I’ve warned people about since then.”

“But—“

Suddenly the boy’s voice was louder and excited, “Here. Turn here!” He pointed to a small turn off to the right. Viktor jerked the wheel and the convertible flew around the corner, lilting slightly almost threatening to flip over, with how fast Viktor was going.

“Where are—“

“Someplace safe until the police can come rescue us. They’re following us.”

“They’re following…us.” Viktor’s voice trailed off as he looked in the rearview mirror and saw multiple pairs of headlights beginning to swerve around the corner, chasing after them.

“It’s just up ahead.” The boy told him as he fidgeted in his seat.

Viktor swerved the car around the corner and continued up a steep hill where a large wrought iron gate dead-ended the road. Atop the hill, a large regal looking – well it would be regal if it wasn’t so old – house stood with a large porch wrapping around the sides and gargoyles perched on pedestals that had been fixed to parts of the roof. Viktor stared unblinkingly at the house as he continued forward, not able to take his eyes off the sight of it and its unfurling lawn of weeds.

“Stop here!” The boy cried and Viktor was broken out of his trance as he slammed on the breaks for the second time that night. The car swerved and veered into the gutter on the side of the road and came to a stop with a jolt.

Viktor could feel the pain in his head as he was thrown back into his seat, the seatbelt locking around his chest, “A-are you okay?” He turned to look at the boy in the seat next to him, but he had already bolted from the car and was pushing himself up the hill towards the large mansion sitting atop it.

“Hey!” Viktor struggled in his seatbelt for a moment, pulling the keys and his phone with him from the car, “Wait up!” He pumped his legs and finally was able to catch up with the boy who had sprinted up the hill and was now looking up at the house in awe.

“We need to—“

“What the hell are you doing?” Viktor asked as he spun the boy around to face him. The boy's hair was blowing wildly from the wind into his face; Viktor only able to see the glint of his brown eyes, “You’re gonna get pneumonia if you run about in the wind like this…” he gestured to the boy's sopping wet clothes.

The boy opened his mouth to reply but his eyes went wider in fear and he pointed behind Viktor. He spun around to see what was happening, missing the roar of engines as the wind howled through the air. He felt his own panic rising as he pushed the boy back up the house as people began filling out of their cars.

“Come on!” The boy shouted over the wind and grabbed Viktor by the arm, pulling him along up the weathered, weed consumed yard, “Hurry!”

Viktor moved his legs as fast as he could, running the last ten yards of the lawn and then jumping the porch steps onto the porch. The boy was furiously jiggling the handle, but it seemed to be locked.

“It’s locked,” the boy told him as he turned back to face Viktor. Viktor panted and looked for a possible plan B, but as he moved closer to the door where the boy was jiggling the handle more, the front door to the house suddenly slammed open. Viktor was expecting someone to have taken mercy on them, but on the inside of the house, seemingly lit, nobody stood in the doorway to let them in. If Viktor hadn’t been so high trying to get away from the townspeople after them, he would’ve screamed at the idea of the door opening itself, but that seemed to be the least of his worries at this point.

“In!” The boy pushed him forwards and then followed in as their assailants neared the porch.

Viktor panted as the door slammed shut behind them and the sound of a lock sliding in the deadbolt gave him a sense of security. At least they couldn’t come through the front door now.

“That was close.” He panted and then looked around the room they had waltzed into, “Hello?!” This was definitely one of the regal foyers that they had back in the older days. It was covered in dust from the ornate entrance table to the cobweb layered chandelier. A regal staircase was spiraling up to the second floor, its once ruby red velvet carpeting faded and dust filled. Doors to other rooms and oil paintings lined the walls, once showing members of the family who had lived here. A grandfather clock sat in the corner near the entrance table, ticking softly along as if the house still had a family living within its walls. It looked as if human habitants been here for decades, possibly centuries, which made Viktor wonder how the clock could’ve been ticking this long without anyone there to wind up its gears.

"You oka--" His voice stopped dead as he looked over his shoulder trying to spot the one who had dragged him into this.

“Where are you?!” he called out, spinning around the room slowly to try and find anywhere the boy could have possibly gone. Hearing a creak and some soft footsteps he twirled around to face behind him, expecting to find the black haired male.

He wasn’t there.

However, the door at the end of the hallway had creaked open and was slowly shutting again by itself creaking as it went.

He peered down the hallway at the door, “Hello?” At his response, the door opened slightly before wavering closed once more. Viktor’s heart was beating loudly, the sound of his blood rushing was filling his ears as he moved up the hallway slowly towards the creaking door. It was probably just the house settling, he told himself as the door continued to squeak lightly as he got closer, Nothing to be scared of. The door gave one final creak as he came to a stop in front of the door, his heart beating out of his chest. There was nothing to be afraid of. It had to be the dark-haired boy that he’d rescued in the rain. If it wasn’t, well…

He gripped his hand around the door frame and with a deep breath he counted down from five in his head.

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

He threw back the door and gasped when he saw a small coat closet filled with old-time hats and moth-eaten shawls and coats. Just when the felt his heart beginning to slow a loud clang sounded through the hallway.

He spun back around to look for the noise when he realized that it was the old grandfather clock in the corner, ringing out twelve melodic chimes, one for each hour that had passed.

Midnight.

“Hello? Where are you?!” He called out again, feeling chills run up his spine as he looked around the abandoned foyer. He had to be around here somewhere; nobody could just disappear without being noticed. Maybe he should just leave? The boy was safe now, right? He had said that they would be safe here in the house on the hill.

Making his way to the door, he reasoned with himself. He should go back to the car now. He should turn on the engine and finish his drive to Evelyn’s house before he fell asleep behind the wheel. He should turn away from this place and forget whatever had happened there. The boy was fine here; he had a roof over his head and he had a place to be safe from the townsfolk who had accused him of being a...a warlock.

He didn't know if it was the word itself that had prompted the feeling inside of him. Maybe it was the way he felt about being judged for something that isn't your choice. Maybe it was the way those brown eyes had looked into his own blue ones with such fear and such worry that Viktor couldn't leave him.

He couldn't leave him now. He was needed here. The boy needed him and he couldn't just leave him to be on his own.

He sighed and let his hand fall back to his side as he forgot about the possibility of putting his hand on the doorknob and allowing himself to leave this unique and scary situation. He wanted to see Evie. He wanted more than anything to cuddle up on the couch with his older sister and reconnect after so long of being apart. He wanted all of that.

But in that moment, his mind was consumed with the thought of one person. The one person he couldn't find in the house.

He looked over his shoulder to glance around the foyer again. Everything was seemingly the same. The old grandfather clock in the corner, the portraits dusty and the carpets moth-eaten. The entrance table was ornate and covered in cobwebs; the chandelier was in the same state. A coat rack stood on the other side of the entrance table, there to take guests coats and hats. Nothing new had developed in the few seconds he had turned around.

 But then he noticed the small crack of light in the other rather dark entrance foyer. It was coving from one of the rooms that lined the wall, the door cracked open slightly to show the soft light pouring into the room.

As he stepped into the small room, he felt relief wash through his veins, “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?” Viktor asked as he stopped in front of where the boy was perched on an ornate sitting chair. He had his hands pressed over his ears and his eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for something. When his eyes finally landed on Viktor, the boy jumped and pulled his hands away from his ears, “Do you hear that?”

“You know you really shouldn’t just disappear like that… Hear what?”

“The house...”

“Oh? Like the big clanging sounds?,” Viktor asked softly as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, “That was just the old clock in the hallway. It’s past midnight now.” He realized how much the boy was shivering as if he couldn’t get rid of the chill from the rain he’d been caught in. He had to be younger than Viktor, 21 at the most if he had to guess by the way the stubborn baby fat was still clinging to his cheeks. Viktor felt his heart ache for the boy; he was in the middle of a horrible situation and he was so young.

“Here, why do you come sit by the fireplace and I can—“, where he expected the hearth to be cold and dark, a roaring fire was blazing. The flames licking and lapping as they crackled on the wood, “There was no way you could’ve lit this fire...not with how long we’ve been here and how high it is...”

The boy looked up at him under his lashes and shook his head, “I didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“The house did, of course.”

“The house?” Viktor felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. This guy had to be a little delirious. Maybe bringing him to the fire would be the wrong choice, especially if he had a fever.

“Yes, The house.” As if he could hear Viktor’s thoughts, the boy rose to his feet and shuffled closer to the fire, looking around the room, “The house is alive.”

At the word alive, the room suddenly had an outpouring of energy. Every single light in the room blazed to life, the fire rose and crackled louder and Viktor felt as if he couldn’t breathe for a moment. It felt as if someone was watching him, staring into his soul, learning every single aspect of him. He felt like he was being invaded. As soon as the feeling had come though, it was gone. The lights went out and the fire still was ablaze in the hearth but hadn’t been as lively as it had moments ago.

“That was…” Viktor gasped softly as he felt his own body tremble from the shock of it all, “What—“

“I told you, it’s the house.” The boy turned to look at him once more from where he had slid to the floor in the power surge, his big brown eyes looking so trustworthy and yet, so captivating. How could both exist between them when they just met not even an hour ago.

Viktor slumped down on the floor next to him, watching the boy very carefully, “Who…Who are you? I don’t even know your name.”,The boy looked at him wearily so Viktor continued, “Is that to much too ask for since I picked you up off the side of the road and brought you here?”

The boy gave a soft hum and turned to face him, “Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki.” He stuck out his hand stiffly as if he was introducing himself to an authority figure and not to a regular person.

Viktor took his hand anyway, “Viktor Nikiforov. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It's nice to meet you too,” Yuuri replied, still holding onto Viktor’s hand. His hand was warm, Viktor noted, and very soft; almost feminine. It seemed fitting with the unruly dark hair and the big doe eyes that Yuuri had flashed him with multiple times.

He could feel something inside him as he looked at Yuuri. Simple and warm.

Attraction. Lust. Love. He didn’t know.

Yuuri let go of Viktor’s hand and put it back in his lap as he gazed up that the vaulted ceilings of the sitting room, “Did you hear that noise before? Not the clock, but the other noise.”

“The creaking?”, Viktor asked as he rubbed the back of his neck, “That was a door to the coat closet down the hallway. It needs some oil on its hinges is all.”

“No. I meant, the woman.” Yuuri clarified as he let his eyes drift down to Viktor’s confused face, “I guess not then…”

“What do you mean?” Viktor folded his arms across his body, in comfort? In protection? He didn’t know, but he felt a little better hugging himself. The whole experience was becoming too much.

“A woman screamed and then she started crying. She was so sad.” Yuuri pulled his knees to his chest and laid his cheek on them, turning to look into the fire, “It must’ve been Prudence…”

“Uhm, not to be sounding like a broken record and all, but who is that?” Viktor asked, his voice going softer and softer with each word. His heart was still racing from the energy spurt and from the experience with the hall closet. His chest hurt. His head was foggy. He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t leave Yuuri. He needed to make sure Yuuri was safe.

Yuuri continued to look at the fire as he spoke, “This house used to belong to a family in England in the early 1700s; the Burnham Family. Prudence was the last living heir to the Ashfield Family after her Father died a few years before she was old enough to marry. When she married, she started her life with Phillip Burnham a very untrustworthy man. Within days of the marriage, Phillip had convinced Prudence to build this house on twelve acres of her father’s land. She eventually agreed. The house had been regal; fine and fit enough for a king. While here they had three children together; Sarah, Margret and Phillip Jr. They lived happily here for many years all the way until all their children had grown and left home.

“It was then that Prudence found out about the truth of her husband. She knew that Phillip was an awful man. He often had the company of loose women. He gambled. He drank heavily. She knew it all, but what had been the end was the visits, the threats, the letters. Phillip had been working with the devil; a secret society to say the least. She never knew what they wanted from her, why they wanted her to leave her house, but she never gave into the demands. Six months after the demands became more aggressive, Prudence was murdered in her sleep.

“Phillip went missing soon after, only to turn up dead months later, the society not having a use for him anymore. Their children had been picked off one by one. Phillip Jr. and his wife had died suspiciously. Sarah had drowned in the creek near town. Margret was the last one left, when they had come for her, her husband, Daniel, and her six children. They had come to live in the house after Prudence and Phillip passed away. They lived there for almost ten years, being very careful about the threats they were receiving. None of them left the house. However, it didn’t seem to matter.

“One night, members of the society had come to hold Margret and her family hostage. They were held captive for months, horrible things were done to them while they were here. The night before Margret had died, she wrote a letter to her captors, claiming that they would pay for what they had done; that the soil of the land would be salted and useless. Nothing would grow on their farms. Their children would be born monsters. The end of their lives would be sooner.”

Viktor was practically shaking like a leaf as Yuuri had told him the story. There was a lot of bad things that had happened to the Burnhams. He was sweating and he felt cold at the same time, “I thought you said they lived in England…” he murmured trying to regain his composure.

“They did. The house had been abandoned for a hundred and fifty years before a family purchased the land and the house. They moved into the house and within four months of their residency their father died of a serious illness. His wife and their children moved away from the house and found another place to live. It was vacant again for another few decades before a man named Boris Popov fell in love with the house while visiting England. He bought the house and had it imported to Russia, piece by piece, including the furniture. He restored it in the Russian countryside in the early 1920s.

“People told him to keep the house preserved. Let it be a relic. He didn’t listen. He moved into the house and was found dead a few years after he had called this home. By the time World War I hit, the house had been forgotten, worn down and left in the Russian countryside until the end of World War II. That’s when they expanded out into the countryside and built small towns surrounding the house. The community had tried to learn about the house on the hill, but after a little girl was found murdered here the people had said that it was cursed and that it was evil. They became scared of the house and for good reason too.”

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat, “So, whoever steps into the house…dies?”

Yuuri hummed, “No. Only those who the house rejected.” He turned to look at Viktor with his brown eyes and sweet face. Yuuri was almost angelic looking in the firelight; a new unsettling perception that Viktor had now had.

“Then why’re we—“

“Here? The house called us.” Yuuri eased into sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he eyed Viktor.

“The house called…us?”

“Don’t you feel it? The pull of the house.” Yuuri asked as he blinked at Viktor through his lashes.

“That I can’t leave…” Viktor mumbled as he looked down, “The pull to you…”

“I feel it too.” Yuuri agreed, “We can’t leave without each other.”

“Then let's go. I don’t want to sit here for the rest of my life and I don’t think you do either.” Viktor’s head was clearing, his breathing was evening out. He was finally coming out of panic and allowing his addrenaline to fuel calm and rational thinking. He stood and pulled out his phone from his back pocket, thanking whatever force that had made him unconsciously reach for his phone as he launched himself out of the convertible. With trembling fingers, he dialed 102 hoping that the Police would be able to help escort them out of the house, giving them safety from the angry group of assailants. The line rang and rang until the line dropped and the beeping over the line signaling that the line had been dropped.

“Dammit!” Viktor cried to himself as he dialed the number again. The call dropped once more, “There has to be a phone around here. Maybe the landline will work. I'm not getting any service here.” As he marched over to the old rotary phone he'd spotted, Viktor began to spin in the numbers for emergency services.

The phone rang and rang.

And it continued to ring for minutes on end.

Viktor felt tears well in his eyes, somebody needed to help them. They needed to leave this house. They needed to leave together.

“Just put down the phone…” Yuuri called to him over the crackle of the fire.

Viktor turned with watery eyes to face him, “No! Why aren’t you helping? Don’t you want to go home?”

“Viktor…”

“I want to go see my sister!” Viktor was beginning to have a mini breakdown again as he continued to listen to the prattled ringing over the line, “I haven’t seen her in six years. I was to selfish too stay in contact with Evelyn. I miss her. I want to finish the hour-long drive so I could see her and we could watch movies together and talk.”

“Viktor, listen to me…”

“Don’t you have anyone you want to be with right now? Don’t you want to leave this house, to be at home, to be at peace? I’m terrified Yuuri. The story and the deaths and the house…”

“Viktor! We. Can’t. Leave.” Yuuri was standing in front of him now, hands on his shoulders and looking up into his eyes, “Don’t you get it. We’re stuck here.”

“No, we can walk out that door right now and—“

“Viktor…we can’t.”

“I don’t under—“

“The moment we crossed over that threshold, the moment that pull to each other began, that is the moment that we crossed over.”

“Yuuri what’re you—“ Viktor felt huge tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at Yuuri, the receiver in his hand suddenly feeling very heavy as he shook. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

“Viktor, we’re dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well…….I dunno what I have to say for myself….I don’t like this fic (all yall can hate me for it too because I already hate myself for writing this)…I didn’t want to write this fic….but alas my inner darkness held my fangirl side hostage until I did. Uhm, this fic wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. I dunno what happened. This is probably all over the place, but I just don’t have the heart or the emotional support to be able to go through this again. I posted another fic based around Trick-or-treating for today as well and I promise fluff for the rest of the week. My big angst piece is out of the way. What a way to start of YOIHalloweenWeek, huh? Like I said, fluff for the rest of the week. I hope my fic didn’t crush anyone. Have a better day after reading this. – Sam


End file.
